Page 79 of Tormenting Me

“Fuhck.” He whispers.

I sniffle, trying to hold back my tears. “I called an ambulance. It’s on the way.”

Finally, the ambulance arrives, and they rush Layne to the hospital. Gavin ushers me into the truck to follow behind the ambulance. The drive to the hospital feels like an eternity, each passing second filled with fear and uncertainty. I stare at my hands covered in Layne’s blood as gave weaves through traffic to stay behind the ambulance. Gavin finds parking and he tells me to run in, that he’ll lock up and grab the bag.

A team of doctors and nurses surround Layne once I get back in the ED. Nobody says anything to me as I watch them assess my wife. I just slide down the wall in front of the triage room, silently crying, feeling my heart break into a million pieces.

Hours pass by in a blur as we anxiously wait for any news. Once they were done assessing her and running tests a nurse led Gavin and I so a smaller waiting room. The doctors eventually approach us with grave expressions, delivering the devastating news that Layne’s condition is critical.

“Mr. Larimore, your wife is suffering from a severe infection in her uterus, posing a significant risk to her health. This is what’s known as a septic miscarriage.” The doctor sits across from me.

The baby didn’t make it.

My heart breaks as the reality of the situation sinks in. Layne’s life is barely hanging on. The doctors explain that immediate intervention is necessary, and they need my permission to rush Layne into emergency surgery.

“You do everything you can to save her. I can’t live without her.” I choke out the words and the doctor nods as he and the two other medical personnel rush back through the double doors that separate the waiting area from the hospital floor. Gavin grabs my shoulder and pulls me into his chest, and I cry. I cry for my poor wife, for the baby we lost.

As Gavin and I sit in the waiting room, a whirlwind of emotions fills my mind. Fear, guilt, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness consume me. All I can do now is hope and pray for Layne’s recovery. We lost our baby, but I need her to survive. I can’t do this without her. I can’t live without her. We can always try again if she wants to, but I can’t do that if she doesn’t live.

The hours drag on, but finally, the surgeon emerges with a weary smile on their face. They inform us that the surgery was successful in removing the infection, but Layne’s recovery will be a long and challenging journey.

Whatever it takes. I’ll do whatever it takes.

Days turn into two weeks as Layne fights to regain her strength. I stay by her side, offering my support and love. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, but through it all, I hold on to the hope that Layne will pull through. She’s barely been conscious the entire hospital stay. They’ve had to keep her heavily sedated to help with the emotional side of everything. When she woke from surgery, the doctor had to informed her the baby didn’t make it and Layne lost it.

In the morning, the sound of the monitors beeping wakes me from the shitty sleep I fell into at two in the morning. My eyes flutter open and I am met by my beautiful wife’s October eyes. “Fuck, baby. Why didn’t the nurse wake me to let me know you were awake?” Pissed off, I get up and make my way over to the door.

“It’s fine, Wes. They wanted you to sleep. They said you’ve barely slept the whole time you’ve been here.” Her voice is soft and full of pain. “I lost the baby. Our baby. I’m so sorry.” She breaks into a fit of sobs. Her shoulders drop and her whole body shakes as she holds her head in her hands. “I — I told you I am broken. I can’t even stay pregnant. What if I can’t ever have a baby?”

I rush to Layne’s side, embracing her tightly. I tilt her head up, kissing her forehead, trying to provide some comfort amidst her anguish. “Layne, baby, it’s not your fault. You’re not broken. Sometimes, these things happen, and it’s devastating, but we’ll get through it together.”

Layne looks up at me, her eyes filled with sorrow and self-doubt. “But what if I can’t ever have a baby? What if this keeps happening?” Her voice trembles with fear and uncertainty.

I cup her face in my hands, my eyes filled with love. “Layne, we don’t know what the future holds, but we’ll face it together. We can explore other options, if we need to seek medical advice, or even consider adoption. Our journey to parenthood may be different from what we imagined, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

Layne sniffles, wiping away her tears. “I just want to experience carrying our child, Wes. I wanted to feel them grow inside me, to see their little face for the first time.” Her voice cracks with longing.

I hold her even tighter, my voice filled with tenderness. “I know, Layne. And we’ll always cherish the memory of our lost baby. But we have the ability to create our family in different ways thanks to modern medicine. We have so much love to give, and we’ll share it with a child, whether or not they come from us.”

Layne takes a deep breath, trying to find strength within herself. “You’re right, Wes. We have each other, and that’s what matters most.”

Chapter forty-eight

Layne

You were never good enough. Why’d you think you were good enough to be the mother of his baby? Your body is broken, Layne. You’ll never be able to give Wes what he wants. You should have just stayed dead.

A guttural moan escapes my lips as waves of overwhelming emotions wash over me. Every inch of my body aches, but it is my heart that bears the most pain. Our baby didn’t make it, and it’s because of me. My eyes snap open and I search the room for Wes, but he is not in his normal sleeper chair by the window. Panic hits.

He left. He left you, Layne. Maybe he finally realized you are not what he wants. You’re worthless and never deserved him.

Darkness clouds my vision as I continue screaming and crying, my hands going to all the cords and tubes attached to my body. Ripping them out one by one. I need to get out of here. Alarms start beeping, and within a few minutes, a nurse runs into the room.

“Sweetie, don’t do that. Everything’s okay.” She says calmly as she reaches for me.

Her hand touches my shoulder and I hear the loud crack before it registers that I’ve smacked her across the face. A pang of guilt washes over me as I realize what I’ve done. The nurse’s face contorts with pain, and I can’t believe that I’ve hurt someone who was only trying to help. Tears stream down my face as I apologize profusely, my voice choked with remorse.

The nurse, despite the pain, remains calm and understanding. She gently reassures me that everything will be alright and that I need to calm down. My breathing is erratic and I feel like I’m falling. She calls for additional help to address the alarms and tend to my medical needs.

---